by Sam Ledel
Jastyn grabbed a small white sack with cornmeal and a few vegetables—her purchased market items for the day. “See you later, Eegit,” she called, starting her way back toward a well-trod path she took to her village.
“And find me a better catch next time, girl!” Eegit shouted as Jastyn strolled back through the trees, grinning.
* * *
Aurelia Diarmaid’s entire body shook, and her breath came quickly as she hid behind a tan, high-backed chair, one of many in the vast, high-ceilinged rooms inside the castle. She closed her eyes, gathering herself.
“I know you’re back there.”
Aurelia held out her palm next to her waist where she conjured a small, deep red flame above her open hand.
“Come out, come out.”
Aurelia leapt from behind the chair, her green dress spinning around her as she did. Just as a fair blue light zoomed toward her, she pushed her saol out to meet it. As the two forces met in midair above the black bearskin rug, a white light flashed, and Aurelia covered her face. Once the light faded and a dull smell of smoke filled the room, a slow clap began opposite her.
“Well done, sister.”
Aurelia looked across the room at her brother Brennus, then straightened her shoulders and dusted off the arms of her dress, all while hiding a grin. “I told you that I was beginning to master that defensive spell.”
Brennus swept a hand through his dark hair, tucking some of it behind his ear. He brushed off his hands and walked over to a long wooden table they had pushed closer to the wide fireplace on the left wall of the sitting room, which now seemed even warmer to Aurelia after all their running around. She helped him push one of the heavy wooden chairs back to its original position near the fire when her brother spoke. “I have to admit, you have improved. You’re really not bad, for a princess.” He winked, and she stuck out her chin at him. Even now that she was twenty years of age and he twenty-two, she and her brother still managed to tease one another as if they were children.
Brennus gathered his belt and sword from one end of the table and replaced it on his waist. His bright blue tunic puffed at the sleeves, and he worked to buckle the elaborate belt before replacing a smaller knife into one of the straps around his high leather boots. Meanwhile, Aurelia rearranged a few of the strands that had escaped the pins that pulled back the top half of her dark brown hair, the same color as her brother’s. If it weren’t for their different eye color, many would think the siblings twins. They both had fair skin, and the faintest blush always sat in their high cheeks. She’d been told that they even wore the same furrowed brow while reading. But while Brennus sported the more common dark hazel eyes seen throughout the kingdom, Aurelia had inherited her mother’s rare sky-blue ones. Her father always teased her, claiming she should be able to see into the Otherworld with such a clear gaze.
“I think after one more lesson, I’ll have that spell down,” Aurelia said after a moment.
“We’ll see about that.” Brennus tucked his sword firmly in its sheath. “Maybe one day, I’ll even let you try me in combat.” He grinned, and Aurelia was about to reply when the heavy oak doors opened into the room, and in strode the queen.
“Mother,” both Aurelia and Brennus said with bows of their heads as she walked across the room. Queen Dechtire’s long red dress flowed out behind her, the silk edges of it barely touching the dark wood floor. Carrying herself as she did, she always seemed tall to Aurelia, though she was only slightly taller. Her light hair, the color of honey, was pinned up in a majestic bun, showing off the same fair complexion. Her light blue eyes were kind, and curiosity sparked in them when she glanced from Aurelia to her brother.
“I see the Asiatic studies are being neglected again,” her mother said with a sigh, her eyes wandering toward a pile of unopened books that had fallen to the floor earlier.
“We were going to go over the language and history lesson,” Aurelia started, rushing to gather the books. “But then…”
“Aurelia insisted I show her another defensive spell. You know how tenacious she can be, Mother, when she wants something.”
“How do you think I acquired so much of our dear mother’s healing knowledge?” Aurelia quipped as she scooped up a final book.
Their mother raised an eyebrow at Brennus, who smiled as Aurelia shot him a look from across the room.
“Whatever will I do with you two,” her mother muttered as Aurelia, arms full of books, shoved them into Brennus’s chest as the king’s messenger walked through the open doorway.
“Queen Dechtire,” he said. “The king requests your presence in the state room.”
Their mother turned, and when she did, Brennus elbowed Aurelia’s side, making her laugh. Their mother glanced back, warranting innocent looks from them both. “Tell him I am on my way.”
“Yes m’lady. The king also requested that Prince Brennus join you.”
All three of them looked at the page. “Oh?” her mother said, pausing a few feet from where Aurelia and her brother stood. “Whatever for?”
“His Majesty simply requested the young prince be present at this meeting. I do not know anything further.”
Brennus, smiling, shoved the books back into Aurelia’s arms and smoothed his pants and tunic. “See you later, sis.”
Aurelia glared at him as he followed their mother from the room. She always disliked how her brother got to be in on everything happening in the kingdom. Of course, she understood he was to be king one day, but she was a part of this family, too. With a sigh, she supposed she’d just have to beg him to tell her about the meeting later, as per usual.
When Brennus and her mother reached the doorway, her mother turned back. “I’ll send for the tutor,” she told Aurelia. “There’s another hour until dinner. Maybe you can get something other than magic accomplished in the meantime, darling.”
Aurelia set the books down on the table and groaned. “But, Mother!”
The queen only smiled and carefully closed the doors behind her.
Chapter Two
Aurelia rolled onto her stomach and stretched out on the sheepskin rug in one of the rooms down the hall from where she had been practicing magic with Brennus earlier that evening. This room was smaller but decorated elaborately, similar to all the others in the grand castle she called home. Most of the rooms and chambers housed portraits of her grandparents and their parents before them, along with fur rugs settled beneath tables carved from the finest wood in all of the Kingdom of Venostes. However, in this room there hung no portraits—only piles upon piles of books which her mother and father used to prepare lessons for Aurelia and her brother throughout the years. Many were old, having been written decades earlier by their ancestors or brought to their kingdom from visiting royals. The room itself smelled of the musky pages and stained ink, a smell Aurelia adored. Most of the time.
Now, however, she was restless. Aurelia lay near the fireplace where embers burned gently, yet her mind could not settle on the book lying before her. She glanced toward a rectangular window on an opposite wall. It faced the front of the castle gates, overlooking a narrow creek and the uneven dirt streets that led down into the market that sat between the castle and the villages tucked between endless, rolling green hills.
She sighed and thumbed through her book: a lecture on ancient dynasties in the lands of Asia. She usually found herself completely engaged when it came to learning about other kingdoms and faraway lands. Since their kingdom was on an island, Aurelia often dreamt of traveling to a new place full of different people who spoke unfamiliar languages and wore peculiar clothing. She spent many nights imagining how it might be once her brother was king and how she might sail away on his behalf, exploring uncharted worlds to make him proud. Perhaps then he would see her as a true equal and not just as his little sister.
With a huff, Aurelia closed her book and rolled onto her side.
“M’lady Aurelia, is something the matter?”
She looked across the room at Roisin
, her handmaiden. Roisin sat in a wooden chair near the window across the room. She had fair skin like Aurelia, but unlike the princess, it gained color in the summertime. Her hair was bright red-orange, like the rowan berries found in the Wood. When Aurelia was nine, Roisin had moved from the eastern shores into the kingdom with her family, and her father had been hired as a cook in the castle. Her mother worked in the market selling bread, and Roisin had been chosen to assist Aurelia with her daily activities. She was a few years older than Aurelia, but the two got along well. The princess imagined their relationship to be one like sisters must experience, and she thought of her as a dear friend.
“Oh, Roisin,” Aurelia said, propping her cheek on her open palm. “I simply cannot concentrate tonight.”
Roisin finished pulling the thread on her embroidery. As she set the cloth down in her lap, she asked, “Why ever not?”
“It’s these meetings,” Aurelia said. “For the last six months, Brennus has been included on almost every issue or village complaint that’s come to my father. And I know he’s to be king one day, but I am the princess.” She sighed again and rolled onto her back. “Shouldn’t I also be informed as to what is going on within the kingdom?”
Roisin pressed out a wrinkle in her navy dress. “Perhaps it’s a matter of official business. Or there is a new trade partner proposal from some interested kingdom.”
“But why can I not know about it, too?” Aurelia’s eyes roved the high ceiling as if the answer might be written there. She turned her head toward the glowing coals in the fireplace. She reached out toward them and closed her eyes. A soft red light began to glow between the tips of her fingers. Once it had grown to a ball the size of a tomato, Aurelia gently blew the red saol from her hand and watched it glide easily to the coals. Within seconds, her saol settled, and a new blaze burned steadily in the hearth.
“Your magic looks to be growin’ stronger, m’lady,” Roisin said, back at her embroidery.
“Seems that way,” replied Aurelia, watching the deep red flames dance. “Brennus has taught me a lot.” She faced Roisin. “Don’t misunderstand me; I value everything my mother has shown me in regard to healing. Her skills are unmatched, and she is very knowledgeable.”
Roisin nodded. “She brewed the potion that helped my father when he fell ill two winters ago. It saved his life.”
Aurelia smiled. “Exactly. And I am proud to know my mother’s trade, and I love that she helped your family. It’s just…” Aurelia sat up, tucking her legs behind her so that her dress spread out across the rug. “Brennus is teaching me things I can eventually use out in the world.”
Roisin raised an eyebrow. “Out in the world, m’lady?”
“Yes,” Aurelia said, unable to contain the excitement in her voice. “Roisin, wouldn’t it be wonderful to be outside this kingdom’s walls? To go to the mountains! Or even to the western sea! Oh, just imagine.”
Roisin shook her head. “M’lady, with all respect, I’m not sure I understand.”
Aurelia tilted her head, then stood and crossed the room. She bent down next to Roisin, one hand on the arm of the chair. “Roisin, I’m saying that one day I will be able to leave this castle. Once Brennus is king, I know he will give me freedom to explore parts of our land that my forefathers never discovered. For so long now, I’ve been reading about these places that sound like dreams. Magical, beautiful places—some that are right outside these walls! And I want to be a part of them.”
Roisin looked at her kindly, then patted Aurelia’s hand and returned to her embroidery. “Maybe one day, m’lady. It sounds awfully exciting. And a bit tiresome, if I’m being honest.”
Aurelia laughed and stood. “Oh Roisin, you’ve become too accustomed to castle life.” Roisin smiled shyly.
Aurelia walked to the window. The moon was bright, half full and sitting high in the night sky. She relished the cool evening air. Lights from the village were dim. Her gaze roved toward the left tower of the castle and climbed the tall gray stones until they found the window glowing bright from the room where her family currently resided.
“Roisin, I must know what they’re talking about.”
Her maiden looked up. “But, m’lady, won’t the prince tell you everything at a later time?”
Aurelia blushed. Roisin was at her side almost every moment of the day; so yes, of course she knew how liberal her brother was with information. He seemed to be on a different page regarding her right to know things compared to their father and mother.
“I cannot wait,” Aurelia said, starting across the room toward the door. “I’m too anxious tonight. I must know. I have a right to know.” She strode over to the door. Before pushing it open, Aurelia glanced back. “Aren’t you coming?”
Roisin bowed her head. “With all respect, m’lady, just last week the queen chastised the pair of us for sneaking pastries from the kitchen after your father’s birthday feast. I do not wish to hear such words again anytime soon.”
Aurelia grinned. “You’re scared, Roisin?”
“Of sneaking across the castle with you? No. Of your mother? Yes.” Roisin shook her head. “Good luck, m’lady.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Aurelia replied, pushing open the door and starting into the hallway on her own.
* * *
Jastyn slowed as she walked the worn path that led toward her home at the base of a hill. The path now resembled a dry riverbed cutting through the grassy slopes outside of the castle’s walls. She walked with the white satchel over one shoulder, stepping lightly along as the sunlight faded behind her. Every fifty paces or so, she passed houses that resembled her own: single story, thatch-roofed homes built by their village neighbors. Many utilized the great boulders found scattered throughout the Wood for walls, and each possessed a wooden door—usually slightly off-center—placed at the front. Jastyn waved to her mother’s friend Kyra Feirmeoir, who sold eggs in the market.
“Evenin’, Jastyn,” Kyra said, brushing away her curly red hair as she poured out a bucket of water around the side of her house. The splash made a cluster of chickens squawk and flap their wings.
“Hi, Kyra. Is Coran back yet?”
Coran had been Jastyn’s best friend since they were little. Jastyn and her mother had been low on rations one year when she was barely seven. Jastyn had also realized her petite stature and unsuspecting nature aided minor thievery in the market. She took to stealing bread and old meat off the back of carts in order to get herself and her mother—who believed the food to be donations from kind neighbors—through the winter. But one day, as she reached for a sweetbread, a man behind the cart grabbed her wrist. As he berated her, Jastyn looked frantically around and wiggled to break free. As the man raised a knife over her head, a boy of nine with the brightest red hair appeared.
“Sir, wait!”
Jastyn, whose eyes had been closed in fear of the worst, looked wildly from the man to the source of the squeaky voice beside her.
“Don’t hurt my sister! Please.”
“Sister?” the man growled, glancing between him and the light-haired girl trembling in his grip.
“She forgets that you need money at the market, sir. Here.” He dug into a pouch sewed into his tunic and handed the man a bronze coin. “For the sweetbread.”
After another look-over, the man released his grip on Jastyn. She shoved past the boy, who called after her. She pushed through crowds of people and dashed behind a dirty southern wall where she fought back tears and nursed her injured pride. After a few minutes, the boy found her and held out the sweetbread.
“Take it.”
“You didn’t have to help me,” Jastyn had said between sniffs.
“He was goin’ to hurt you.”
Jastyn looked down and shrugged. “I was stealing.”
“Well, sometimes my dad takes an extra fish from the boat when he gets done workin’. He says it’s ‘earned,’ and we need it.” He pushed the bread closer. “Like this.”
With an
other sniffle, she grabbed the bread, tucking it close against her. “Thank you. And I would have said we were cousins.”
The boy smiled.
“I’m Coran.”
Jastyn wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek, then shook his hand.
Now, Coran’s mother stood shaking the bright red hair she gave her only son. “He’s not back from the stables yet,” she said, wiping her brow. “But any minute, he should be comin’; I saw Elisedd walkin’ by just moments ago, so surely Coran must be returnin’ soon.”
Panic set in as Jastyn nodded and excused herself, hurrying along the path and up toward the last hill. She cursed under her breath for meandering in the Wood—again. She’d lost track of how many times she had been late returning home. And it wasn’t even that she didn’t like being home. It was just—
“Elisedd.” Jastyn froze twenty yards from her open doorway. Her stepfather stood outside.
He wasn’t a cruel man. Elisedd brought food to the table and wood for the hearth, and it seemed as if he made her mother happy. But as she stood there watching him kick dirt and horse manure from his boots against the door frame, Jastyn couldn’t recall feeling at ease since he came into their lives. She could never pinpoint what it was exactly. He doted on her mother and deeply loved the daughter he had with her but seemed to tolerate Jastyn and her presence. She never understood his lack of compassion. But with time, as with most things, she grew used to his behavior and found joy in the most beautiful gift he ever gave her and her mother: her half sister Alanna, who stepped out of the house now, holding up a hand to the setting sunlight. When she saw Jastyn, she waved and called out.
“Jastyn’s home!”
Elisedd turned as his daughter sprinted to Jastyn. His dark gaze fell on hers before Alanna crashed into Jastyn, nearly tackling her to the ground.
“Alanna! How are you?” Jastyn hugged Alanna tightly but continued to eye her stepfather over her shoulder. He watched her like a hawk, as if he was afraid Jastyn might hug Alanna too tightly if he wasn’t there to supervise. When she released her sister, Jastyn stepped back and met Alanna’s gaze.